I mean, I like London but...

Into the West

If anyone reading this has not heard of the cult classic Irish film 'Into the West' then you should hunt it down and watch it as quickly as your fingers can type you towards the nearest amazon task bar. Perhaps I'm bias, as a sort of Irish resident (well, they're attached to Northern Ireland, that's about it) and a childhood horse lover, it has all the elements of nostalgia, magic and bank holiday Monday on RTE memories that I will ever need. This was also the first ever film I cried at and pretended to have fallen over outside so as to hide my embarrassment at doing so.

I could gush about the context, the content and the concept for paragraphs but the best thing to do is recommend that you watch it. When else will you ever watch a film about two brothers from a Dublin council estate who steal away their pet horse from a racing mogul, ride it across the Irish countryside all the while being tracked by their gypsy father (played by Gabrial Byrne) only to discover, after escapades involving cinemas and exploding tins of beans that the horse in fact possesses the spirit of their dead mother. Oh, what do you know, it didn't take me paragraphs after all!

Simple Pleasures part I

A long running topic of discussion, creative instigation and general appreciation for me has always been the concept of things which, in life are the simplest but make the toil towards the greater goal easier by providing the day to day pleasure that keeps at bay the frustration of access towards ultimate contentment. Obviously these vary day to day if not moment by moment but by considering these as a jumping block towards what really matters in life, they help keep things in check.

Many of my simple pleasures are artistically rooted, whether that be writing, going alone to 'look at art' (this is actually the only way you can retrospectively decide for yourself what it is that you appreciate as there is no push or pull from another persons presence and preference), or creating. A lot of my simple pleasures generally require some kind of notebook/pen/time alone combo and below are the results of a Maroon Muji passport notebook/Muji double ended black marker/night shifts at my old job with nothing but the internet and a coffee machine for company combination. The top one is of a friend and the bottom one is a somewhat dodgey self portait of sorts.

Want to move to the Isle of Skye with me?

So this is my first blog and a good place when building anything of significance (which this will undoubtedly be) is at the foundations. Music has always been the thing most important in my life, not to demean the importance of family, friends, health and happiness but they are all a given. After you place these to one side, what comes next provides the bones that support a persons character and if music is my foundations then the yellow fibre glass insulation that keeps my house warm is Idlewild. The first live gig I ever went to, the first album I was given by a boy, the first time I was so desperate to see a band that I went on my own (this happened more than once actually) and the first band that caused and mended a pretty significant heart break. Idlewild are probably the only band that as much as I would like to say, I would defend to death, I'm more likely to just secretly despise the nay Sayer forever.

And so, this week, I rubbed my pennies so hard together that I've got copper dust in my pockets, right next to a spangly white receipt for 'Post Electric Blues'.


And so, to listening. To be honest, when I heard the single release I was slightly worried. With no other tracks to nestle 'Readers and Writers' among, it stood alone, with blazon brass and I was nervous that Idlwild had gone a little 'Mark Ronson' on me. Of course that was ridiculous and my doubts were ousted and order restored on pressing play. This was always going to be a bias review, but then why would I dedicate time to talking about something onto which I cannot pour my deepest affections, I've read those other blogs and that's not my bag.

'Take me Back to the Islands' is a stand out track for me but perhaps my crush on Woomble has blinkered me into this as it oozes the folk elements that made his solo album 'My Secret is my Silence' such a delight, I hope that's John McCusker I can hear again. Makes me want to put on an aran sweater, make a quick pit stop home for books, dog, vinyl and head on over to those Scottish Islands, skim stones until I get at least five in a row then retire to a fire and drink red wine until my mouth looks like I've been in a box of liquorish. Then I'll meet my dream boat...


Anyway, after this my dream boat will break my heart, I'll put back on my leather jacket and nail polish, pack up the car, throw the dog in the boot and speed off with the synth induced rock out that is 'Dreams of Nothing' blazing from the stereo. Now you should be in no way deluded as to how much Idlwild can do for your life, except, I'm keeping them for myself, so if you feel the same either keep it to yourself or marry me.